


Dinner

by badwolfbadwolf



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Derogatory Language, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf
Summary: Geralt uses Axii to convince Jaskier he needs his come daily.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 51
Kudos: 823





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *paddles up in my non-con canoe* Hello!

“Come here, Jaskier," Geralt says simply, and Jaskier drops his spoon, lets it fall to the dirt, and crosses over to him from across the fire. 

Geralt’s been doing this for so long now that he barely has to think the word Axii and Jaskier’s immediately on his knees, no matter where they are. The sign glimmers in Geralt’s hand, makes Jaskier’s mind empty like fine sand through an hourglass. Geralt takes his time, looking his fill of his bard who is staring up at him with loving devotion and a sleepy look in his big, blue eyes.

“Time for your dinner.”

Jaskier opens up immediately, like the obedient little slut that he is, just as Geralt’s trained him. Geralt sighs as he loosens his breeches and thumbs at Jaskier's bottom lip, weighing what he wants to do tonight. He’s feeling lazy, his muscles sore from the day’s long ride, so he just barely shucks his pants down and grabs his cock at the base, squeezing it once and groaning at the look of open desire painted on Jaskier’s eager face.

“What do you need, Jaskier?” he husks, stroking himself once and feeling a bit of precome squeeze out of the tip already as he spreads his thighs further.

Jaskier frowns, confused why Geralt doesn’t know, pointed pink tongue coming out as he eyes the bead at the head of Geralt’s cock.

“I need your come.”

And Jaskier does need it, Axii making him desperate, craving it, insatiable without it, just because Geralt said so. Geralt strokes up again, feeling more precome gush out at the tip. He can tell it will be quick tonight. Maybe he’ll make Jaskier bend over for it, too, afterwards.

“And when do you need it?”

Jaskier leans closer, straining forward with his hands clasped behind his back obediently but not doing anything else until Geralt commands.

“Every day.” 

“And why’s that?” Another stroke, and Geralt watches Jaskier swallow thickly and his eyebrows draw together. He’s looking more flushed now, still fully clothed and sweating through his open chemise, little cock tenting and drooling enough to make a wet spot in the front of his trousers.

“Because I’m your… your little come slut.” The words are familiar but Jaskier stutters it every time, face flushing deeper. It’s beautiful.

“Yes, you are. You’ve been a good boy,” Geralt says, like he’s addressing a dog. “Taking my come so well. Swallowing it every night.”

Jaskier smiles with the praise, his whole body tight. Geralt can smell the lust rolling off of him, the sweat, the dirt, Roach and leather. Geralt’s done playing though, the need to come suddenly becoming more urgent.

He holds a hand out and Jaskier surges forward, lets his hair be fisted, lets Geralt shove him to the front of his pants and rub his cock all along Jaskier’s lips. He moans as Geralt paints them with the precome gathered there, and it’s wet and shiny in the firelight, like women’s gloss. Jaskier licks at his lips and Geralt’s cock roughly, tonguing at Geralt’s slit, desperate for more.

“Open up, hmmm,” Geralt murmurs and Jaskier immediately complies. Geralt feeds his cock in, already feeling his balls grow tighter as he sinks into the open, wet heat of Jaskier’s mouth. He can’t help but thrust in hard that last little bit, loving the way it makes Jaskier choke and splutter as he hits the back of his throat.

“Good little slut,” he says, stroking Jaskier’s hair, his sweaty brow, his throat where he’s fluttering around the fat head of Geralt’s cock.

Geralt starts fucking him in earnest, each little mewling breath from his slut edging him closer. He can start to feel it building up from deep in his belly, a burning rash of heat flaring under his skin the longer he pounds. After a few minutes, though, Jaskier is trembling and his nostrils are flaring, always so delicate, barely able to take what Geralt doles out.

“Hmmm, should I pull out when I come? Come all over your pretty face? What do you think, slut?” Geralt asks teasingly as he eases out of Jaskier’s throat, letting him take in deep, spluttering breaths. He traces his dick across Jaskier’s red cheek, a wet line of spit still connecting him to the cherry red lips.

“No, no, I need it.” Jaskier digs his fingers into the meat of Geralt’s thighs, growing more agitated. He’s heard so many times how much he needs to drink Geralt’s come every day that there’s not even a question about why, the simple mind trick enough to make him forget anything but Geralt’s whims.

“Fuck, Geralt, I _need_ to swallow it. Please, _please_!” 

The desperate tone makes Geralt smile sharply like always and he grasps Jaskier’s ears and holds him in an iron grip, tilting his head upward easily. 

“Then open up for me,” he says as he waits for Jaskier to comply then fucks back inward, all along Jaskier’s soft tongue and straight down his throat. “I’ll give you what you need.”

Jaskier’s choking moans and the flutter of his throat make Geralt finally lose it, gritting his teeth as his orgasm washes over him. He watches his cock flexing between Jaskier’s spread lips, still as far in Jaskier’s mouth as he can get it, his hot seed spending down the man’s throat while Jaskier tries to swallow and keep up with the copious amounts of it flooding his mouth.

“Happy now, slut?” Geralt asks when he finally pulls out, watching Jaskier lick his lips to get every last trace of Geralt’s precious spend.

Jaskier just hums, sinking down on his haunches in the dirt. “Thank you, Geralt,” he says, voice far away.

Geralt tucks himself back in his pants, warmth settling over him pleasantly. Jaskier is so much more enjoyable like this, none of that incessant chatter, none of those silly questions, no lutes or whoring around or complaining.

Geralt rubs his fingers together, feeling the glow of Axii flare again. “You’ll need it again in a minute, Jaskier.”

“I’ll need it again in a minute,” Jaskier parrots, the blush on his cheeks renewing. Jaskier still hasn’t spent though the spot on the front of his pants has grown, his hair a disheveled mess.

“Undress and bend over for me. Ass up.”

Again, Jaskier complies immediately. Geralt’s not ready to go again, not yet, but he can still pass the time with amusement at what he can make Jaskier do in the dirt, just because he can. Even without the gentle push at his mind, Jaskier had always been so easy for Geralt to wrap around his finger. And after all, all it takes is a _little_ push… it’s impossible to resist.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I was done with this, but whoops, my fingers slipped. :D

“No touching,” Geralt says, watching with pleasure as Jaskier drops his searching hand immediately. He’s pressed face down right in the dirt, shoulders down and legs spread. “I need your slutty little hole tight enough for me.”

Jaskier groans, his little cock hard and painfully red between his legs, and Geralt rises from his seat to loom over him. 

“I need it,” Jaskier rasps, turning his head sideways to stare up at Geralt who is slowly stripping. The spell still holds him, makes him putty in Geralt’s hands, and he’ll let him do anything he wants.

“My desperate little slut,” Geralt says as he kneels down behind him and spreads him apart with one hand, fingering against Jaskier’s pink hole with the other. “Are you tight enough for me today? I’ll have to check. You like sitting on cocks so much, I don’t know if you’ll be able to squeeze me enough to make me come.”

“No, no, I’ve been good,” Jaskier babbles. “No one else. So tight for you.”

Geralt pushes in his finger dry, checking to see if he’s lying. And Jaskier’s so very tight around his finger, like a vice, clenching so Geralt can barely push it in to the knuckle. 

“Hmmm,” he murmurs noncommittally, wriggling further inward and feeling around. Geralt’s hard again already and he takes himself in hand and gives a nice, firm tug upward. He reaches for the vial of oil in their nearby open pack and drizzles it over his cock, stroking up again and groaning at the slickness of it around his heavy girth.

He knows there’s been no one else, not lately anyhow, not since Geralt’s been playing this little game. Because Jaskier’s been servicing Geralt every single night, ass or mouth, or sometimes both like tonight when Geralt just can’t get enough. But still…. there’d been plenty enough before him.

“See how you just bend over for anyone who asks? Such a little slut for it, always. You were so stretched out, loose and sloppy when I found you. And now you’re just mine, just a slut for me. Isn’t that right, Jaskier?”

Jaskier’s mouth is open, drooling, and he nods as Geralt lines up against him and shoves the fat head of his cock in. It’s tight, so _incredibly_ tight that Jaskier winces as Geralt has to force his way inward.

“It hurts,” Jaskier complains dully as Geralt grabs his hips to pull him upward, and Geralt’s sure it does because he’s barely prepped him.

“You deserve this,” Geralt says, inching his way in, loving the clench and the way Jaskier squirms beneath him. “For all those men you let fuck you. Instead of me.”

Jaskier moans, body clenched as he tries to be so tight for Geralt and it takes several minutes until he’s worked his way inwards most of the way. Geralt gives him a firm spank on his ass as he kneels upwards more then pulls Jaskier upright into his lap so he is stuffed full and sitting on him, back to the man’s massive chest and legs spread wide over Geralt's big thighs.

“Had to train you back up, make you mine, make you tight again,” Geralt murmurs hotly into Jaskier’s ear, starting to make him bounce. Jaskier’s weight is nothing to Geralt and he shifts his hands so he’s got one digging into Jaskier’s hip, the other toying with his cock. It makes Jaskier cry out, too much friction and the sudden grip on his neglected cock overwhelming him.

“You’re getting too loud, Jaskier,” Geralt warns, squeezing at the base of his little cock. “No coming until I say.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I can be quiet.” But he still cries out as Geralt jerks him roughly, Geralt making hushing sounds as Jaskier twists in his grasp.

“Do I need to gag you, too? Bet you wish you had another cock in that slutty mouth of yours to shut you up.” Jaskier just moans as his body strains against Geralt’s, bucking his hips between Geralt’s hard cock buried deep in his ass and his too-tight grip.

“Is this too much, Jaskier? You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“No, need your cock,” Jaskier says, voice pained and growing more desperate as Geralt strokes him more quickly in time with his deep thrusts.

“That’s right, pet. You need it don’t you? Need my come filling you up always? You’re my little slut aren’t you? Just mine. Say it, Jaskier.”

“Yes, yes, I’m your slut, just yours.” Geralt’s pulling his hips down hard with each thrust, spearing in as deep as he can, so the bard can feel it all the way in his _throat_.

“Then fucking come for me, slut.”

Jaskier’s cry is loud in the clearing, his body tightening and clamping down on Geralt’s cock so hard that Geralt simply can’t hold back anymore and he thrusts in one last time, hard, and comes. And Jaskier is tight, so tight around him, such a good little toy for Geralt, and he bites down into the soft flesh of Jaskier’s shoulder as he fucks his come deep into him with short, brutal strokes while Jaskier comes messily all over his stomach and Geralt’s fist.

When they’re both finally finished Geralt stills, cradling Jaskier against him and feeling the mess of come starting to drip out of Jaskier’s hole and down along Geralt’s balls and thighs.

“Keep it in,” he says brusquely as he lifts Jaskier off of him, pleased to see Jaskier scramble around onto his back obediently and shove two fingers inside so none of Geralt’s precious come can escape.

“You going to stay like that until I’m ready to fuck you full again?” Geralt asks, eyes bright in the darkness, sure of Jaskier’s answer.

“Yes, Geralt.”

“Good boy.”

He probably can't come again tonight, but he can still make Jaskier wait there, stuffed full of Geralt's come and waiting for his instructions until Geralt finally has pity and lets the boy roll into bed with him until they can do it all again in the morning. 

Jaskier always looks so confused as he stretches his limbs with a yawn as he awakens, his body stiff and wet and aching between his thighs. It makes Geralt groan, a simple matter to cast the spell again so Jaskier forgets, becomes compliant, becomes just for Geralt. Perfect and _his._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as [badwolfbadwolf](http://badwolfbadwolf.tumblr.com) where I talk about my two moods: 1. romantic tropes 2. dirty filth. Come say hi!


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